Magnetic Medicine
by Mable
Summary: Still suffering from injuries after the machine's attack, 6 seeks relief from the pain by turning to 8's magnetic headset. That is, until he's caught in the act. 6x8, Request, Human!punk.


**Mable: Okay, so this is an extremely overdue request for Angel, but I had a little difficulty getting it done. That being said, I still enjoyed writing it!  
Because I didn't want to have an exposition block in the story, the concept is the same as my last Human!punks story; they are basically genetically and otherwise altered humans born to survive in the Emptiness after the war. So, they are still the only existing humans and the only thing different is really size and appearance.  
Anyway; Angel, I'm sorry for the delay! I don't own 9, Enjoy!**

* * *

 _ **Magnetic Medicine**_

Even though the machine was no longer a threat and everyone was safe, the effects of the brief assault by the Fabrication Machine were still looming. Especially for someone like Six, who had suffered through both physical and, technically, spiritual injuries. If they were normal humans, then most of them would have died in the process. Instead, they were all alive, and that was something to be thankful for. Even if it still hurt.

Six had injuries that wouldn't heal immediately. He could only wish that these would be mental, would give him nightmares, would be something he could easily deal with, but no. Instead, Six was with a booted foot, an arm in a sling, and multiple scrapes and bumps. He could barely remember falling into the trench, but he absolutely knew that it happened from the multiple injuries alone. He had to hobble to walk, even with a crutch it was mostly awkward, and his drawing had been stifled from his inability to get comfortable.

All in all, Six was a mess, and when he wasn't dealing with nagging pain he was just flat out bored. The others had been so determined to start rebuilding and expanding the Sanctuary that they were constantly busy. Those who weren't would tend to Two, who had managed to somehow get injured to the point of absolute bedrest, or try to recover themselves. One's hand was too bandaged to see the full extent of the damage, but he was constantly nursing it. It seemed much worse than Six's own, which was in a sling but wasn't bandaged nearly as much.

Eight had suffered from some burns, but out of all of those who were injured, he had recovered the quickest. In fact, he was current out with Nine, Seven, and the twins, scouting for supplies. Six didn't even enjoy scouting and yet he wished he could be out there. Anywhere other than this bedroom with nothing to do. The nagging pain forewarned him that he needed his medicine, but Six didn't want to take it. It made him tired but didn't necessarily help him sleep. Eventually he pushed himself upwards in bed and shuffled to stand.

After securing his crutch under his good arm, Six began to hobble towards the door. He only paused briefly in front of the small mirror that he had hung by the door, pausing to look at himself. With his complexion, it wasn't easy to see the dark rings that had settled under his eyes, but they seemed especially faint today. Perhaps because of the excess sleep he was getting by being stuck in his room. It made him look a little healthier at least, and fixed one of his many quirks.

Though now that he looked closer, his hair was greyer than it was before the Machine's attack. Six was strikingly young to get grey hair; he was a young adult but already had more grey in his hair than One had. More of the darker color had receded after, possibly, the Machine's attempt to take his soul. With a soft Six of disappointment, he looked away and continued out the door and into the hall. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock was somewhat soothing and the lack of voices was almost a relief, as he knew there was nobody to send him back to bed.

It almost sounded like the house was empty, but Six wouldn't believe it. He started to head down the hall, passing Nine and Five's room, then stopped at an open doorway. It was Eight's bedroom and it was seldom left open. Not that anyone wanted to fight through Eight's collection of weapons and knick-knacks to peek through his room. The artist looked over the doorway with slight curiosity, but it wasn't technically towards Eight's room. Instead, it went to something else; a certain item of Eight's.

The guard had a vice. Unlike normal humans that used to live before the war, who relied on alcohol or cigarettes, he relied on a simple headpiece to get a fix. It only worked with their kind; organically produced humans with some internal metal. Something about the reactions of magnets on their body, especially on the head, would trigger an euphoric sensation without any long-lasting effects. Thus, the headset was magnetized, and would give some sort of pleasurable experience. Not that the artist had ever tried it.

Then again, Eight wasn't using it anymore either. Before the machine's attack, Eight would use the magnetic headpiece at least once a day. He would sneak away and come back playful and relaxed. Unfortunately, playful Eight always went straight into Six's room and started to bother him. Unlike the others, Six didn't consider Eight's attentions 'bullying', though they didn't witness it as much as Six did. It was more of a prolonged annoyance and over the years Six had become emotionally immune to it. In fact, he sort of welcomed Eight's attention.

Since the machine's attack, Eight had not used the magnet at all. Six could tell and didn't understand why. Maybe it was because the guard was still busy recovering after everything that happened. The strongest thing he witnessed the guard using was the aloe blend that he would occasionally apply to his burns. Though Six only caught a glimpse of this once. Now, standing here at the doorway, he wondered why the guard wouldn't use the headset any longer. Remembering that the man wasn't due back for a while, he slipped inside the bedroom.

It didn't take long to find the headset. Six checked Eight's bedside table and found it immediately inside the top drawer. With a small hum of curiosity, he reached in and lifted the headset. It didn't respond to his hand at all. He cautiously sat down on the bed and looked over the headset, as though trying to get answers out of it. It seemed so peculiar that something so flimsy could cause pleasure. Even his ink stained hands could easily crush the headset; or it seemed like it from how light it was. He could only wonder what it would feel like.

Mismatched colored eyes glanced to the door and then to the clock. The others probably wouldn't be back for hours and, even when they did return, it wasn't like Eight would immediately be back to his room. Six would have a buffer to hide the headset and hobble into the hallway at least. For some reason, the urge was intensifying, and it only became harder to resist when he paid attention to how sore his wrist and ankle was. They both throbbed from even the smallest of movement to get in here and he wondered if the magnet would stifle it.

" _But it's wrong…"_ Six mentally warned himself. _"If I use it, then I'm going to become addicted."_ Or, at least, that's what One said. Perhaps One could've been exaggerating, as he frequently did. Either way, he needed some sort of relief, and his curiosity only pushed him further. _"…For a second."_ He raised the headset to his head and awkwardly slipped it on with his one good hand. The effects were almost immediate.

A tickle rushed down his spine as the sensation of bubbles danced on his fingers and toes. Even the injured arm and leg felt the bubbly sensation. On his head settled a warm fuzziness and mixed in with a sort of satisfied relaxation. Suddenly all of his worries were gone and he was lost in the pleasuring sensation that slowly spread through his body. For a while, he was stuck in a fog, but he somehow managed to take the headset off and closed his eyes, lost in a daze.

" _Hey!"_

Six's eyes shot open and he inhaled sharply. Suddenly sober, he looked down past the foot of the bed to see Eight standing there. Any relaxation was suddenly gone as he went rigid in surprise. "Eight!" He couldn't understand how he had gotten here so fast. Though from the time on the clock, it was clear that he had been asleep for hours on the guard's bed. Eight's expression was mixed with anger, shock, and possibly a good deal of confusion, and it made Six shrink in on himself. He wasn't scared of Eight, but Eight was intimidating regardless.

Eight towered over Six. He had much more muscle and mass, usually had a stern look- when he wasn't amusing himself by teasing him- and tended to always be wearing his armor and weapons. Then again, he would naturally be intimidating considering that Six was in his room and using his prized possession.

"What's going on in here?!" Eight blurted out in a mix of scolding and horror. He just looked aghast at the sight and Six struggled to push himself upwards and pull himself together.

"I didn't-!" Six choked out. "I was just- it's a mistake!" Normally, the artist wasn't good with words, but now it was especially hard to form understandable words. At first he wasn't sure why Eight came home so early, but then he briefly looked at the time and realized that he had slept for hours. The headset had put him out like a light.

"What were you thinking?!" Eight demanded as he snatched the headset away. "Don't you know addictive this thing is?!

"I just- I just wanted to see what it was like…" Six seemed much more embarrassed than fearful, as he dropped his head to stare into his lap. The shame of being caught continued to grow and bubble. "I'm sorry…"

"Sorry you got caught, maybe," Eight grunted in accusation. Though the smaller did sound believably sorry and looked rather pitiful. Eight gave a small huff and decided to tone down the lecture he was preparing to give. "I'm going to skip past going off at you for sneaking into my room and messing with my stuff. You've heard One go off about the magnets. You know how bad it is."

"I know…" Six squeaked out.

"You could've least waited until I got home and asked me," Eight pointed out. Six's head shot upwards and he stared at Eight in surprise. His mismatched colored eyes were still wide with surprise.

"You… You would've let me?" He couldn't have meant that.

"No," Eight bluntly reassured. He held up the headset with disappointment on his voice. "This thing is dangerous. Especially for some kid who doesn't know what he's doing." With that, he opened a random dresser drawer and tossed it inside uncaringly. It was only as he slammed the dresser back shut that Six realized how uncaring Eight was being with the item. He used to treasure it, always carrying it on him, but now he tossed it aside as though it mattered very little to him. As though it was just a nescience. "Why'd you really do it?"

"I-I meant it. I was just curious… And sore. It made you feel better," Six suggested meekly.

"I know you've got medicine. You go take that," Eight commanded. "Now go over to your room and sleep. I'm not telling One now, but if this happens again, I'm going straight to him." With that warning, Six stumbled to his feet, grabbed his crutch, and hurriedly hobbled from the room and into his own. Eight had let him go without much ado about anything. With this, he should've been satisfied, and this would be the end of it.

…But it wasn't the end.

Eight had put the memory aside for the time being. Other than both him and Six dodging each other, the next few days passed without any sort of issue. The artist kept to himself and the guard decided to mostly ignore him. This gave the illusion that everything was alright and that they had effectively moved passed what happened.

That was, until one night it returned with a vengeance.

It had to be the middle of the night and Eight was as close as could be to a dead sleep. It had been an exhausting day of rebuilding and, being how strong he was, Eight had become the workhorse of the sanctuary. Too many supplies to carry in too short of an amount of time had left the guard rendered exhausted. Thankfully, bed was a comfort that he could rely on.

Then there was a small thump from the dresser. Barely a noise at all and yet somehow roused Eight. Normally, he would've returned to sleep without much of an issue, but in this brief moment he noticed dim light coming through his cracked open door. His door had been opened.

Paranoia sunk in as the guard sat upwards abruptly. In this moment his eyes, still unfocused, managed to somehow land on the shadow at his dresser. With a noise akin to a choke, Eight reached for his lamp with one hand and for his blade with the other. Though the latter was quickly forgotten once the light came on and revealed the small figure's identity. He knew that flustered expression and overall bedraggled appearance.

"Six!" Eight bellowed in utter offense. "What in the hell are you doing in here?!" Six stared, mouth opening and closing, and looked almost entirely without an answer. So, Eight came up with one of his own; seeing as though the intruder was currently standing beside an open dresser drawer. "If you came in here looking for the headset-!" Words couldn't express his disturbance, so instead he went to climb out of bed. Six, meanwhile, took a few tentative steps back, but was too eager to stick around. He was willing to risk it all for another chance for magnet.

"There's no way you're addicted after one use," Eight accused with a growl, "how long have you been sneaking in here and using?"

"I haven't," Six insisted. His voice was filled with exhaustion and heaviness. If anything, he sounded like he was in pain, but not as though he was coming off of something. "I just… I'm having a bad night. I just needed something."

"What are you talking about?" Eight was still suspicious, but his voice lowered just a bit. Mostly to not draw more attention to them.

"…I tried drawing earlier and I-I strained myself a little," Six meekly admitted. He hated admitting it, but at least Eight didn't know about how firm Two and Five were on him not using his left hand at all. Foolishly he dared to believe that he could still draw if he could move the sketch pad in close enough. This was not the case and now, sometime later, he still felt the panging. "I don't want to wake the others-." He didn't want to tell the others what he did. "-and I thought maybe the magnets… Would help?"

"You- Of all the stupid reasons-…" He was being honest, Eight knew this much, but it didn't make the situation much better. He knew that Six's injuries had to still bother him. It didn't help that Eight did feel a sort of guilt in not being there when Five, Six, and One were attacked. Especially with Six and One, who had been injured much more than Five. The taller gave a small sigh and tried another option. "I can go in and get Five out of bed."

"No, please," Six nearly begged. "Can't I just- Medicine won't work well anyway. It's slow, it makes me weak, and it just- it doesn't work." The artist considered his chances before going through the effort to ask more clearly. "Just for a few moments. I-I wouldn't ask if I didn't really need it." He hadn't wanted to use it again. As good as it felt, Six didn't want to risk becoming addicted, but with the painful throbbing spreading through his wrist and hand was keeping him from any sort of sleep. "And I'm sorry… For sneaking in."

Eight knew that the grip of the magnet was strong. He knew that Six could easily be tempted… But Six was the honest type. He didn't have a habit of lying and, even when Eight caught him before, he had managed to be relatively honest. He caught himself staring down at the smaller, trying to gauge if it hurt as much as he said. He could only assume that it did, being that Six had been virtually untouched by injury before this moment. This had been the first time that he had been tripped up, almost literally, and the first time was always hard.

"If I let you use some of this-," Eight reached into the dresser and fished out the headset, "-will you promise me that you will _never_ ask again? This thing will get ahold of you and won't let go. I'm not gonna have you going through withdrawals and begging me for a hit." His face was firm as he voiced this. Thankfully, he noticed that Six looked to him and not the headset; he wasn't that entranced with it. "And I'm giving it to you."

"O-Okay," Six agreed anxiously with a curt nod. "Do we… Do we do it here or-?"

"We'll just do it in here," Eight assured and gestured back to the bed. "Sit down. I'm not doing this all night."

Six did as commanded and lowered himself onto the bed, propping his crutch beside the nightstand. He then watched as Eight fiddled with the headset, then sat down alongside him.

"It's not going to be like last time. It's not going to be nearly as strong," Eight pointed out as he somehow turned the strength of the headset down. "But you should still feel it." He then leaned in closer, moving to place the headset on. "Don't fight me with this."

"I won't," Six quietly agreed. Instead, he quietly waited, and when the magnet met skin he could feel the tingly, tickling feeling return fully to his body. He shivered and shuddered, then broke into a small fit of giggles. Eight simply watched and gauged his reactions; wanting him to start feeling it, but not too much. Though as he did his task, applying a frowned upon medicine to ease the pain- even though Two himself used magnets in the past when performing certain treatments- he couldn't help but take the time to stare at Six.

He did manage to be adorable at times. The way he nipped at his bottom lip while suppressing a wide smile; Six managed to have a way with those innocent looking smiles. Six wasn't as innocent as he looked, Eight knew this well, but he gave a nearly perfect illusion. He looked young, even though he was a year older than the guard, and he looked harmless when he absolutely wasn't. He knew there was a fighter hidden underneath the timid exterior. Or he thought there was one there.

He had been thinking a lot about Six in the recent days. Coming so close to death had only made him rethink his priorities and feelings towards the others. It was the only reason that he was risking his own skin to ease the artist's pain. If One or Seven knew that he was doing this then they would both have his head. Even Eight second guessed using the magnetic headset, but continued to apply it, watching the smaller relax.

Once he was sure Six had gotten enough, he drew back and set the headset aside. "Any better?" Eight asked as he looked to the artist.

"Much better!" Six admitted with a smile giggle. "It's so tingly and warm."

"Yeah, that's what it does," Eight admitted with amusement.

"Why don't you still use it?" The question slipped out without Six realizing it. Still in a magnetic daze, the thoughts that were supposed to stay in his head somehow managed to slip past his lips, leaving a very embarrassing display in their wake. Yet he was still just high enough that he didn't immediately correct himself, even when it took Eight a little too long to respond.

"I just… Don't need it anymore." That sounded like a lie. Or, at least, not the whole truth. Six was willing to send Eight a somewhat skeptical look and the larger sighed. He expected him to snap and send him out, but instead Eight sighed and opened up. Almost as though he was waiting for someone to ask. "It slows me down too much. Makes me numb when I really need my senses… Made me numb when the Seamstress attacked."

The Seamstress was a rare kind of machine. Shaped like a human, but with a porcelain exterior and spider-like body, the Seamstress had been the most clever of the beasts that they confronted. It used a mixture of stealth and hypnosis to trap its prey when the other machines would be more outright aggressive. Then again, it was also the only beast that resembled a human. It wouldn't be too surprising if another surviving human, partially synthesized or not, appeared in the Emptiness out of the blue. Perhaps the Fabrication Machine knew this when it made the Seamstress.

Six started to sober as Eight brought up the Seamstress. After all, it had taken him first before attacking the others, and up until now the guard hadn't spoken a word about the incident. The artist looked to him with concern. "What… What happened?"

"You know what happened," Eight pointed out. "I was too slowed by the magnet and I let her get too close. She took me out… And it's my own damn fault." For once, Eight was actually opening up to somebody. "I let that thing get its fingers in me and take control. I almost got killed because of its hold."

"That wasn't your fault," Six murmured. "We… We didn't expect the Seamstress." That was a lie. He had a slight prediction that something was coming before the Seamstress had appeared, but had stayed quiet because he knew either nobody would listen or nothing would be there at all. It wouldn't be the first time that he falsely predicted a vision.

"I meant the magnet," Eight corrected. "I should've been on guard that night… If I was there when you or One was attacked, I could've saved us all a lot of pain…" He looked over at the smaller and for a moment Six's pulse quickened. The guard looked apologetic and that alone had his emotions in a flurry, because it was something he seldom saw. "We wouldn't be here at one in the morning with you begging for magnet."

"I-I wasn't really begging," Six quietly defended.

"I couldn't just do my job and now everything's different," Eight vented further as he looked back at the headset. Six watched his movements and his mismatched colored optics landed on his arm. There he could see a multitude of red dots leading down the outside of his arm. They were the injuries that the Seamstress left, but he only noticed them because the guard drew attention to them. Being careful of his wrist and ankle, he scooted across the bed to sit alongside the guard.

His ink stained fingers trailed over the dots and Eight immediately straightened a little more, putting his guard up for a moment before it dropped again. He still looked over at Six, who didn't remove his hand. His fingers moved instead to trace circles around his '8' tattoo.

"You didn't let anyone down, Eight. There was nothing more you could do," Six assured quietly. "A-And this, helping me now… It's more than enough to me. I already feel so much better- No pain."

"Yeah, well… Then it was worth it," Eight agreed with an almost defeated tone. "As long as you're better…" Then they sat together silently. Six continued to pet Eight's arm and Eight didn't seem willing to pull away. The guard gave a small sigh as he grew flush. Of course Six would be so affectionate, as he always was. "I do care about you, you know. Someone's got to worry about you." He didn't even mean to say it, but he did, and it only made the room feel much tighter around him. Though not exactly in a bad way.

But it was only getting later. He could hear the low pangs from the grandfather clock in the hallway and knew that they were losing their chance for sleep. "You need to go get sleep while you can get it," Eight forewarned him.

"It's okay. I don't really sleep," Six admitted sheepishly. "…But if you need me to go so that you can sleep-."

"I can give you a little more to help you relax, but that'll have to be it," Eight offered in a surprising contrast to his previous reluctance. "I'll have to keep an eye on you afterward, but I can come over to your room." The thought of easy sleep was more tempting than he wanted to admit. Even if it meant having to drag Eight over into his mess of a room. Unless there was an easier compromise.

"Can I stay in here?" Six quietly asked, pausing to bite his lip. "I-I'll try not to scream. Maybe I'll sleep through the night with the magnet, and if I don't I can go back to my room." Now that he had gotten it out there, he was afraid of the rejection that could follow.

It took Eight a few moments, but he finally decided on an answer. "Fine," the guard agreed with a nod, "but if I wake up and you're scrounging through my drawers in the dark, you're going back to your own room." This got a light peal of innocent laughter out of Six, but he cut off rather quickly afterwards. He watched patiently as the guard raised the headset and pressed it back against his head.

It felt just as tingly and wonderful as before. Six shuddered and pressed more firmly against the cool metal, along with Eight's grasp. His mismatched eyes glanced upwards at Eight, at his slight smile, and the warm sensation spreading through his body in tiny shudders. He didn't know if it was from the magnet or from Eight's own behavior; both felt too good. He found himself staring and watched as the guard removed the headset.

The moment it was gone, Six sprung forward and his lips were on Eight's.

The guard was obviously surprised by the motion. He dropped the headset, which clattered to the floor, and his hand latched onto Six's good arm. Six retorted by planting his good hand on the back of Eight's head. He tangled his fingers into his dark hair, which was now loose instead of being pulled back as it usually was during the day. At this point, Eight almost entirely gave up on fighting Six off. He didn't really seem to want to anyway.

Then, finally, Eight separated the two. He drew back and Six had gotten enough control to keep from following his lips. If there was some sort of explanation following this, neither of them could manage to get one out. Around this time, Six was able to realize what he had done. Desperation hit and he scrambled for a plausible answer.

"Magnet!" Six eventually blurted out through a muttering mess of babbles. As though the magnetic headset could somehow justify his previous actions.

"…Yeah, okay," Eight went along with it. He seemed just as awkward from the even. "Probably just side effects… Seems like if anyone would get 'em, it would be you." Then came a slight, much more playful smile. In a sense, this gave a sort of confirmation that the striped male wasn't expecting. He hadn't anticipated that the other would be so accepting of his actions. Thankfully, he hid the growing heat in his face well enough as he slid back against the pillows.

"You… I…" Six considered the results if he continued questioning what happened. He was liable to make Eight uncomfortable and then be properly asked to leave. There was no way that the artist would willingly sacrifice this opportunity. He didn't want to lose this. "…Uh, good night," he blurted out and shuffled over to the other side of the bed. He awkwardly laid down, facing away from Eight, and tried to keep some sort of compositor. To his dismay, Eight actually laughed at the scene before proceeding to put the headset away and shut the light out.

For a few moments, it was all feeling a bit suffocating. Six was laying atop the blankets, thankfully on his uninjured arm, and feeling rather out of place in the room. He could feel Eight sliding under the blankets beside him and a few moments passed without any reactions. Then, finally, Eight turned over and put his arm around the smaller male. He was careful to put his arm around his middle, underneath his injured arm, and held him close to his chest. He didn't say another word. He didn't have to.

It was one of the best night's sleep that Six ever had, and he suspected that the magnet had little to do with it.

 _ **FIN**_

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 **Mable: For anyone wondering about 'Our Inner Beasts', the next chapter is almost done. It's just a more difficult chapter to wrap up and with a posting for another fic due tomorrow, I'm a little pressed for time. It and the rest of the requests will be posted soon than later, though. Now that it's summer, I have less classes to deal with. ^-^ I hope you enjoyed!**


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